My Favorite Slightly Awkward OTP
by Emono
Summary: A Grissom/Greg prompt story. Ranges from fluff to angst, G to M, brace yourselves. Slash, M/M


**Title:** My Favorite Slightly Awkward OTP: A Grissom/Greg prompt story

**Prompts:** 10 Prompts from a 100 list

**Author: **Emono

**Fandom:** CSI: Las Vegas

**Rating:** PG-16

**Pairing:** Grissom/Greg

**Warnings:** A little crack, a shade of cross-dressing, and a dash of pure fluff

**Disclaimer:** CSI is way too big to even attempt to mess with; all I have is my poetic license.

**Beta:** gil_follower

**1: Serenity**

Greg's shoulders were tensed, jaw clenched, one eye shut, hands sweaty. The headphones over his ears were bulky, the thick safety glasses digging into the bridge of his nose, and there was an ache in the base of his back from standing so still. The gun in his hands was heavy, almost awkward. Warrick told him that if he didn't get better with a gun, no more field missions alone for him.

Greg's finger twitched dangerously, a shot going off. It hit the edge of the paper across the room, making the sheet flutter. He sighed heavily, putting down the gun and peering at the shot-sheet down the lane. He hated the gun range in the CSI building, but it was the only place he could practice.

Greg huffed, slipping off the headphones.

"Gregor" his name was whispered, someone brushing up behind him. A solid, reassuring hand was placed on his shoulder, warm breath brushing his ear "You need to relax now. Keep your grip firm, but not too tight. Don't hold your breath, but don't breath all the way out. Line up the shot...keep both your eyes open."

Greg subconsciously followed every order his boss gave him, a sense of calm washing over him. He slipped his headphones back on, the strong hands slipping down to touch his hips. The gun felt lighter now, and when he brought it up something took over. He shot off three bullets, praying for luck.

He got it, three bullets across the neck.

He could feel the older man smiling, "Good."

"Thanks, Gil" Greg turned, looking up at his lover with a bright eyes.

"I knew you could do it" Grissom leant down, brushing a kiss across the boy's lips "Now do it again, think you can hit the heart?"

Greg couldn't start on how that statement applied to him.

**2: Wishful thinking**

Greg's mind liked to play tricks on him.

At least, that's what he kept telling himself every time he had an inappropriate thought about Grissom. The way their fingers would touch a moment too long over a folder, a shoulder brush in the hallway, the buss of his fingers on the back of his head whenever Greg did something right. The look in Grissom's eyes when he saw him in the hospital bed, beat to hell and back and crying.

And that intense look...the one where he looked at him like no one else was in the room, piercing and intimate to the point where Greg was sure he would drop to his knees at any given moment and let the man take him.

Sometimes it scared him, sometimes it flattered him, but most of the time he found himself frustrated to the point where he was ripping out his hair and hoping for a bolt of lightening to strike him into the ground.

But maybe he was wrong, maybe it was just wishful thinking...

**3: Musically inclined**

Greg walked into Grissom's office, brandishing a lab report and some good news. Of course, what did he find but Grissom relaxed back in a chair with headphones on his ears. The brunette's brow creased, eyeing the iPod on the desk. He had never known his boss had an iPod, he had never pegged him as that kind of person.

Greg leaned over the desk, peering down at the tiny screen to see 'tango de Roxanne' printed out.

Grissom cleared his throat, "Can I help you Mr. Sanders?"

"I've got your labs" Greg laid the folder down "Moulin Rouge music? Really?"

Grissom pointed out the door, "Go. Now."

Greg repressed giggles as he left.

**4: Equation**

Catherine was in mid-sentence when she finally realized what Grissom was doing. The older man was leaning a bit to the left in his chair, peering at something past her waist. At first she thought he was leering at her, then followed his gaze.

Greg was bent over in the hall, retrieving some files that had slipped out of his hands.

She shot him a nasty look, "Grissom!"

"What?" he snapped out of it, blinking up at her and clearing his throat.

Catherine was smart, she knew how to put two-and-two together to get love.

**5: Plants**

Greg wasn't really sure what to make of it. He poked at it with the end of an empty folder, watching the vase slide a bit. It was really quite lovely, the vase was a pure ivory with curves and twist carved into it. The flower inside was a bright yellow, folded delicately away from the light. It seemed lonely, out of place in the vase, but very beautiful nonetheless.

"What's that?" Warrick asked, stepping into the lab and casting a curious look at the flower.

"I...don't really know" Greg replied truthfully, booting up his computer "I think someone left it for me. I'm gonna look it up."

"Yeah, do that" Warrick cast one last glance at the flower, then left the lab.

Greg typed the description into a flower finder online, blushing scarlet and secretly holding back a dance of joy. Someone thought he was worth the effort of leaving a flower on his desk...

Warrick entered his boss's office, narrowing his eyes at the composed man.

"So, Grissom..." pearly whites flashed in a sudden grin "What kind of flower is it?"

"It's a primrose" Grissom replied coolly, knowing he was stone-cold caught "It thrives in moonlit gardens, and blooms in the night. It's very delicate, but is not a flower to take lightly. It does something others cannot, it can thrive in starlight."

Warrick shook his head, "I'm seriously too afraid to ask anything. Just tell the kid soon, ok? If he asks me, I'm not lying."

Grissom gave a tsk, "I'd be surprised if you did."

**6: Office supplies**

Greg was _not_ pouting.

The brunette rifled through his desk, turning it upside down and throwing random stuff out of drawers. He was fuming, but not _pouting_. His favorite pen was gone, a simple white piece with a black lid he liked to chew on. He had owned it for over a year, he was quite proud of himself. He had written many cool things with that pen, and now it was missing!

He didn't notice that he was being watched from the surveillance room.

Catherine snuck up behind Grissom in his chair, snatching up the pen in his hand.

"I can't believe you" Catharine half-scolded, tapping the man in the head with the writing utensil "Do you really think stealing his favorite pen is going to make him fall in love with you?"

Grissom made a face as he snatched the pen back, "I'm going for the old 'pull her pigtails and run' scheme, it works for grade-schoolers."

Catherine gave a snort of amusement, "It's more like the 'push him onto the pavement and snatch up his kickball' routine."

"Whatever works" Grissom replied calmly, tapping the pen lid against his bottom lip "Look at him, he's pouting."

**7: Fire; ember; firelight**

Warrick and Nick started some kind of weird contest, putting out their first-time stories and seeing whose was better. Greg really didn't know how he got dragged into it, he was just the lab rat processing evidence they both brought in.

But Nick had to drag him in, "Yeah? Well, I bet Greg's got a better story. Come on Greg, what was your first time?"

Greg could only blush, but he told them straight out he didn't have any full women stories. He _had_ one...one first time story that beat all others. But that one was staying locked up, like he would tell anyone. Not only would it get him in trouble, but if the other bosses found out...well, Grissom would be looking for another job as well.

Oh yeah, it was with Gil Grissom.

A bit more than a year ago. Greg almost swooned at the memory, nearly spilling chemicals all over the table.

It had been after dinner, a meal that Grissom had let him help cook at his begging. Grissom had started a fire, both talking about nothing they could remember later. It had started off slow, careful touches along arms and shoulders, in hair and down backs. Greg had been warmed up by something other than the flames, spread out on the pillows on the floor. It hadn't gone too fast, kisses placed along his quivering stomach and chest. Clothes and doubts were shed, and soon he knew the feeling of his boss's mouth on his inner thighs and...

Greg bit back a moan, trying to keep his eyes and mind focused on his work.

Grissom had taken him right there, the firelight casting a crimson/tea rose glow on the man's skin. It had never known that sex could be so good...

Of course, before Grissom, he had really never thought sex was that big of a thing.

And later in the night, after a nap, Greg had awoken to a warm cloth being run over his skin to clean him up. The fire had been reduced to embers, and Grissom was cooing something that lulled him back to sleep. The next time he had awoken, it had been to a cool sheet slipping over his hips and fingers carding through his hair while the same voice told him to rest for now.

"Having a fireside chat in the lab?" Grissom walked in, Warrick and Nick both looking down at their shoes in guilt "I see. Don't you both have something else to do?"

"Yes, sir" they both mumbled, shuffling out.

Greg looked up, "They were just waiting on me to finish up their evidence, Gil."

"Oh, I know" Grissom leant over the table, peering into his face with a small smile "I know that look, what are you thinking of?"

Greg flushed up to his hairline, "Oh...nothing at all."

**8: Static electricity **

Greg really hadn't been paying attention, he had been wrapped up in creating a playlist on his iPod. He was clad up in his street clothes, short sleeves and jeans with his coat tied around his waist. He had just happened to look up for a brief moment, spotting Grissom walking towards him with his head in a case file.

His head didn't seem to register it, but his heart did.

It skipped a beat, his mouth going dry. Then he locked his eyes back on his iPod, trying to ignore the reaction.

Grissom passed, their elbows brushing. It was a flash of heat, it seemed to bite him. Greg gave a yelp, jumping back and glaring at the older man.

"You shocked me!" Greg whined.

Grissom looked back at him questioningly, "I didn't feel any static electricity."

And that's when Greg knew he was in love.

**9: Chance**

Greg could only look at the box on the bed, confused and flushed.

"Uh...Gil, do you really expect me to...?"

"Come on, for me?" Grissom pleaded, cross-legged on the bed and shirtless "I just want to see what the big deal is with cross-dressing. It can't be all that great, right? Take a chance, try something new."

"I'm not putting it on!" Greg protested, glaring at the short, heavily shaded forest green dress folded up in the box.

Grissom resorted to a pout, "Please? Only for me?"

The brunette bit the inside of his lip, "...only for you, I swear."

Greg stripped, highly aware of the trained eyes on every move he made. Stark naked, he reached into the box and pulled out the dress. He unzipped it, nerves shaken up so badly his fingers were trembling. This was so stupid, he didn't know why his lover talked him into crap like this.

The silk fell over his skin smoothly, rasping like butter over his shoulders and chest. He smoothed it out over his thighs and stomach, looking up at his boss expectantly only to scoff. Grissom was sitting there, bouncing a little with his eyes closed.

Greg sat down on the bed, "You gotta zip me up."

Grissom reached out blindly, seizing the zipper between his fingers and pulling it up easily.

"Ok" Grissom gestured, eyes clenched shut "Now stand up and give me a spin?"

Greg got to his feet, making sure the silk fit snugly over his figure. It wasn't too smooth, nor itchy like he thought it would be. The cool air from the ceiling fan bussed the silk on his shoulders, making him shiver. He didn't hate it, he could see for the first time why men felt like women trapped in the wrong body.

Grissom finally looked, intense gaze going over him. The older man's pupils seemed to blow, breath hitching a little at the sight.

Greg spun once, "So? Is it what you wanted?"

"You look beautiful sweetheart, do you know that?" Grissom held out a hand, voice husked "Come here...let me touch you."

**10: Storm**

Rain hit the windows with a kind of fury, thunder shaking the walls as if demanding to be let it. A pole down the street had been knocked over (Greg personally didn't hope it got struck by lightening) and the power had gone out about an hour ago. It wasn't often Las Vegas got a storm...it was rare, anyways...but when it hit, it hit hard.

So there Greg Sanders was, curled up on his lover's couch with his head resting on said lover's thigh. Grissom was amusing himself with a book, glasses on and candles lit up all around to provide some light. One hand held the book open, the other played absently with the young man's hair.

Grissom was the first to break their silence, "Anything particular you're thinking about?"

"No" Greg buried his head further into the man's thigh "Not really."

Grissom looked up from his book at the windows, "It's strange, this weather."

"I've never seen it this bad" Greg felt the fingers in his hair seize a particularly curly lock, swirling it thoughtfully.

"So...when are you going to tell me?"

"About what?" Greg tried to play innocent, but Grissom didn't even take the time to glare "You mean...about the job offer I got down in Miami?"

"Their Trace Expert was killed, Greg" Grissom explained "Speedle was an important part of their team, if the rumors I heard were true. None of them are taking his death well, I surmise. It's really quite an honor for Horatio to offer you the job so soon."

Greg sat up, "I don't want to leave."

Grissom looked over into the boy's eyes, seeing the sincerity there. It broke his heart to see Greg so desperate, so wide-eyed innocent. The older man reached out, cupping the side of the boy's face. Greg leaned into the touch, blanketing the hand with his own.

"There are many more opportunities in Miami than here" Grissom explained, each word like a weight being added to his heart "It would do you some good. You would get much more field work, I assure you. They would take to you like honey, Gregor, much more than Warrick and the others do."

Greg turned his head, pressing a kiss into the other's palm.

"Gil...I don't want to leave _you_."

Grissom smiled sadly, "I believe you."

Their kiss was rough, filled with a burning undertone of desperation that made their stomachs churn. Grissom buried his fingers in soft blondish hair, tugging hard and pulling the other completely into his lap. Grissom broke the kiss, but Greg was shaking his head in protest and trying seal their mouths.

"Listen, _listen_" Grissom insisted, forcing their eyes to meet "Know this, Gregor...I wouldn't have let you leave, no matter what your decision was."

The other gave a simper, "Thank you."

**End**


End file.
